


Endless Circles

by lilithduvare



Category: Grimm (TV), Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, BAMF!Stiles, Crossover, Cuddling & Snuggling, Derek is still a sourwolf, F/M, Jealousy, M/M, Mates, Nick is an awesome cousin, No Werewolves, Possessive Behavior, Puppy Love, Stiles is a Grimm, There will be sex but it will take a while, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Wesen characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-07
Updated: 2012-08-07
Packaged: 2017-11-07 04:17:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/426831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilithduvare/pseuds/lilithduvare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was one of them, one of the Chosen who could see what no one else could - the darkness inside, the real monster within. It was his calling, his legacy, his duty, his life as a Grimm. </p><p>-<br/>Everything started with perfect Lydia's pretty face morphing into something truly hideous and terrifying, and went downhill from there to the point where Stiles was left with nothing but an overprotective father who was never there and his mysteriously deceased mother's legacy that turned lost him everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Preface - Little Red and the Grumpy Wolf Pup

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Teen Wolf story and because I'm unable to use only one fandom, I just had to fuse it with Grimm. Because I'm fabulous like that. And because I know that Nick would make an awesome cousin to a badass as hell Stiles who was born with his mother's powers. There are no werewolves, but the Alpha of the Blutbat packs is still able to bring new members in via their bite. This is an AU story and not just because of the crossover part, but I let you find things out for yourselves. So I hope you'll enjoy it.

**_Preface - Little Red and the Grumpy Wolf Pup_ **

 

Genim always loved his mommy’s bedtime stories even when they were a bit scary and full of mean characters like the queen in Little Snow White who tried to kill the princess and those annoying pigs who hurt the poor wolf instead of giving him food when it was so obvious that the wolf was hungry. Genim felt for the wolf and hoped that the pigs and Red Cap would see things in his way, but each time Genim’s mommy told him a tale about wolves they got hurt. And it was just wrong! Why those dummies couldn’t see how awesome wolves were? Genim wished that there were some wolves in the forest, but when he asked, his daddy said that wolves left long ago because bad hunters chased them away. Still Genim loved wolves and his mommy was the awesomest mommy in the world because sometimes she told him tales about wolves that could turn into people and lived in the forest in packs and Genim could see it before his eyes, imagine that his mommy was a mommy wolf taking care of a furry cub that was Genim while his daddy hunted for rabbits to fill cub Genim’s belly.

“I wish to be a wolf!” Genim stated seriously on the day of his fifth birthday before he blew the candles on his cake, his big brown eyes full of determination even as he was swaying on his toes. “Wolf like the changing wolves in mommy’s story. Because they’re really cool and strong and I be special and awesome-” he trailed off as people around him gasped and started whispering to each other, confusing Genim, because it was rude to whisper when there were other people around.

He looked at his daddy, expecting him to be all frowny and telling Genim’s aunts and uncles off for being rude, but his daddy was just standing in the doorway next to Genim’s mommy and he looked sick and worried like that one time when Genim fell off the monkey bars and broke his arm. That was not a nice memory and Genim’s fingers twitched as he remembered having that itchy cast on his arm and being forced to sit at home when he wanted to run around in the park or the forest with Derek, his only friend even if he was strange and always grumpy. But he was alright now and his daddy didn’t have to look worried, no he had to tell Genim’s aunts and uncles off for being rude on Genim’s birthday party.

He turned to his mommy who and was still smiling, but Genim could see that her smile was not as wide as it should have been and that her pretty, pretty blue eyes were dark and sad like when Genim’s gramps went to join the stars that guarded Genim’s dreams. That look made Genim nervous and even without listening to those harsh whispers he knew that he did something bad. He didn’t know what it was, but he knew he had to make it right. Somehow, anyhow. Just make it right.

“Mommy?” He tried to be strong and not cry, because big five-year-olds didn’t cry, but his eyes were all prickly and he could barely breathe as he tried to reach out for his mommy’s hand while the room around him was swaying and shaking, frightening him and urging him to run and hide in his mommy’s arms. “Mommy, I didn’t mean be bad! I’m sorry, sorry, sorry! And I promise I be good, just don’t be sad and tell my aunts and uncles not whisper ‘cos it’s rude! Okay mommy? And daddy my arm’s okay now! Look! Look! Don’t be frowny and grumpy, ‘kay?” he rambled and wanted nothing more than to run over to his mommy, but if he was bad then there were no hugs for him until he said he was sorry and could tell why he had been bad.

He refused to look at his aunts and uncles, his mommy and daddy were much more important and they had to forgive him and he wished his head didn’t hurt so much and that he could see through the funny spots before his eyes, but then out of nowhere he was engulfed in strong arms and the familiar smell of his daddy and he couldn’t even remember why he was so upset anymore. He was safe and his parents were there and maybe when the funny spots disappeared he could get a slice of cake too, though he wouldn’t give his mean family who had whispered so rudely and left him out of whatever they were so secretive about. Nuh, he would eat the whole cake alone, or maybe he would share it with Derek if his mommy took him over to the big house in the woods that was so wicked and was always full of people.

Yup, he would share his cake with Derek, maybe the yummy chocolate-y taste would help him to be less grumpy. And then they would hide the cake of course, because Derek’s sister Laura, who was all teenager-y and had no time for wimps like them, didn’t deserve to have a slice no matter what Genim’s mommy said about being nice to everyone. Laura was a girl and icky and always laughed at Genim and called him Gen like he was a girl. Genim was no girl, he had no yucky germs and he hated clothes and pink and fluffy things… except for wolf pups, and puppies and kittens, but that totally didn’t count because pups and puppies and kittens were cute and not creepy things like those dressing dolls the girls loved to play with at daycare.

Genim scrunched up his nose and buried his face in his daddy’s shirt, his head still hurt and he had no idea what was going on anymore. He couldn’t remember when had he closed his eyes, but at least those strange flashes were gone and he could even hear his mommy’s voice, although it came from very far and sounded different than usually. Maybe his mommy was finally telling off his aunts and uncles for whispering, yeah, Genim could remember the whispering, but why were they whispering? He wanted to ask his daddy, but before he could he felt the rumble of his daddy’s voice where his face was lying against his daddy’s shirt and Genim knew that he had to listen to what his daddy was saying.

“It’s okay, Genim, you’re okay and I’m here.” Of course his daddy was there, he was always there even if he had to work a lot. Genim frowned, not really understanding what his daddy meant. Maybe he was saying that he wasn’t mad about Genim being somehow bad? “We love you, your mom and I. Love you so much.”

“Not mad?” Genim asked quietly, testing he waters in hope. “Not want be bad. Love you too.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, buddy,” his daddy said and his big hand was stroking Genim’s hair and it felt so good, so good. “You don’t have to be sorry.”

“’Kay, daddy. Mommy not mad too?”

“Of course she isn’t mad either.” Genim managed to open his eyes for a second and smile at his daddy. His parents weren’t mad at him, so maybe now he could eat some cake, or maybe after the sun wasn’t shining so much and his head stopped hurting…

“Head hurts, daddy,” he whimpered. He wanted it to stop, but no matter how many times he repeated it, his head still hurt and he couldn’t open his eyes anymore and couldn’t really think at all. Then there was some noise and loud voices, and suddenly instead of his daddy’s smell he was breathing in his mommy’s clean scent. There was a rush and some rumbling noise and after that some pain which ended in darkness and nothing.

So Genim’s fifth birthday was a disaster that ended in a week long hospital stay, which was actually pretty wicked especially when the cool doctors put him in that rocket-like thing that took pictures of his brain. The nurses adored him and brought him books with awesome pictures in them, thought they didn’t let him wander around or get him out of his bed almost ever. Genim tried to be good and stay in bed, watching TV or drawing “Thank You!” pictures to the nurses and “Love You!” pictures to his mommy and daddy, but he couldn’t concentrate and okay, so that rock thing was cool, but he wanted to go home and sleep with his snuggly puppy plushy and wanted to play with Derek who actually visited him and acted really strange, being even more grumpy and clingy. He clutched at Genim’s hand the whole time and even growled at his own mommy when Auntie Patricia tried to tell him that they had to leave.

For a second Genim thought that Auntie Patricia would ground Derek for being bad, but she just sighed in the same way Genim’s mommy did when his daddy left his clothes around in the house. “Don’t get sulky with me, Derek Hale,” she said without any anger in her voice. “It’s nearly dinner time and Genim needs to rest-”

“Not hungry,” Derek grumbled, biting his lip and tightening his hold on Genim’s hand. “Don’t wanna leave.”

“Derek, Genim is fine and he is going home soon, so you two can go on with your play dates as always.” Auntie Patricia was so patient and nice, Genim really loved her. Not as much as his mommy of course, but more than Aunt Beth who was his daddy’s sister and had two big boys who always made fun of Genim and his name. Maybe as much as Aunt Kelly who was really cool just like Cousin Nick, her son. Nick never made fun of Genim and the day before he promised to be there when Genim got out of the hospital tomorrow.

Derek let out another growl, causing Genim to turn to him in surprise, but this time Auntie Patricia got angry and before Derek could have said anything, she was standing next to him, glaring and showing the same face Genim’s mommy showed when he did something bad. Maybe it was a thing all mommies learned at mommy school or something. Genim frowned as his thought blurred like they did at his birthday party, but there was no pain which was good. It had to be good, because it meant he was okay and he could finally go home. So to reassure Derek and get him out of trouble before they got their play date time revoked, he squeezed the tan fingers engulfing his smaller hand.

“I’m okay, Derek. No pain,” he said and grinned at Auntie Patricia brightly. It always made her laugh, but not meanly like the kids laughed at him at daycare. No-no, Auntie Patricia’s laugh was all soft and super nice and it made Genim feel really great. “We meet t’morrow, ‘kay?”

Derek left with a frown on his face that looked like a pout, but Derek said he was a big boy and big boys didn’t pout when Genim told him the first time he saw him doing it. Genim thought it was a pout, but after Derek growled at him like some angry puppy that was more funny than scary and tackled him to the ground in the garden behind the Hale house, Genim learnt not to bring it up and let his friend sulk whenever he wanted. Which was pretty often thanks to Laura and his cousins who liked to pick on him like Genim’s cousins did it on him. Not that Genim couldn’t stand his cousins or Laura, because they were family - not Laura, but she was Derek’s family and that counted - and his daddy always said that family was everything.

Genim groaned softly, hiding his eyes behind his hands. His head was hurting again and there were so many things to think about and Genim just couldn’t stop thinking even if he wanted to. He wanted to stop thinking so much, because it hurt and his hands were twitching which was scary, but interesting too. He heard Dr. Tom saying something to his mommy about Genim having ACDC which was funny because Genim wasn’t in a band with a bunch of old guys in it. They even gave Genim some pills that made him a bit fuzzy but his head never hurt when he took them, and he could concentrate on watching Cartoons and drawing pretty pictures too. And the nurses told him to try breathing slowly and deeply if his head started hurting again, so Genim did his best to keep his eyes closed and mimic the way Nurse Kathy showed him until they brought him his pill.

It worked and Genim was happy that the pain went away, but he could still feel the squeezing feeling the doctors called pressure. He took a few more deep breaths then slowly lowered his hands and blinked at the TV across from him. Great! Teen Titans were on! He could totally watch till the night nurse came and brought him his pill. Maybe she would even sneak some crackers or something in for him, because hospital food tasted yucky. Or maybe an apple juice box, like the one his mommy usually bought him when she went shopping.

Sadly, there wasn’t any juice box or crackers which just sucked, but at least the pill made him sleepy and when he woke up the next morning his mommy was already there, smiling and ready to take him home. Nick was there too, grinning and being tall and all grown-up, ruffling Genim’s hair and kissing his temple like he always did. And Genim just had to tell him everything.

“Dr. Tom says I have ACDC, Nick!” he exclaimed with a snicker. It was just hilarious. “I look like an old guy now? ‘Coz I looked like a five-year-old yesterday! I saw it in the mirror. But Dr. Tom says I have it and Derek was all sulky, but he’s always sulky, you know Derek, but I would be sulky too if I had a sister like Laura who is really mean to us and he calls me girl names and I’m no girl. I’m no icky at all, and Derek knows it too because he’s my friend, but you know Derek too, though I don’t think he likes you too much… Yeah, he growled at you that time when he was at our home when you visited, but he growled at his mommy too yesterday so maybe he likes you okay. He is always sulky, and don’t tell anyone but he pouts too! Like this!” he tried to mimic Derek’s expression when he was angry, jutting out his lower lip, but he just had to laugh at the thought of Derek pouting and Nick was smiling too, all broad with teeth, and Nick didn’t have sharp teeth like Derek. No Nick’s teeth were really white and normal, but still bigger than Genim’s. They were adult teeth, he thought which was okay, because Genim was still a kid and had a lot to grow. Or so his daddy said.

He wanted to say something else, but his mommy, who started talking to Dr. Tom after she greeted Genim, came back and put clean clothes on Genim’s lap. She wanted to help him dressed like she always did, and Genim almost let her, but then he remembered that he was five now and not that little anymore, so instead of letting his mommy take his clothes off, he started dragging his pajama top off by himself. It was a hard task and his head got stuck a little, but after a little fight it was off and he was grinning at his mommy and Nick.

“See, see? I done it!” he cheered, swinging the top in his hand.

“Yes, you did it, darling,” his mommy said softly, kissing his head. “I’m really proud of you.”

“Yeah, you’re all grown-up now, midget,” Nick agreed and Genim’s chest felt all fluttery and warm.

“Like you, right? I’m grown-up like you!”

“Of course.” Nick laughed, but not meanly. “Now put this on so we can get you home.”

“Nu-uh. Pants too. Gotta put on pants too.” Genim shook his head, but he was already trying to put his head through the neck of his favorite shirt with a howling wolf print on it. “Look, Nick! You got me this!”

“I’m glad you like it.”

“It’s a good thing he’s growing so slowly. He barely lets me wash it as it is,” Genim’s mommy said. “Imagine what would happen if it was too small for him.”

Nick laughed again and scooped Genim up from the bed, hugging him close to his chest. Genim smiled and buried his head into his cousin’s chest, sniffing at his shirt and enjoying the familiar smell of forest, and vanilla and cookies. Genim loved that Nick always smelled like cookies. He said it was because he worked at a bakery after school, helping to make cakes and cookies and those creamy things Genim didn’t know the name of but were really yummy.

“Cookies?” he murmured causing Nick’s chest to rumble.

“Yeah, there are some at home.”

“Cool!”

Dr. Tom and the nurses waved at him and Genim waved back until they disappeared behind the swinging doors. The car ride was boring and Genim got restless within the first few minutes, but he got his morning pill before Dr. Tom let him go so it wasn’t really bad. His head was okay too, no pain though his thoughts were a bit confusing. There were cookies and then he thought of Derek who promised to come over so they could play and eat cookies of course. Then they got out of the car and Aunt Kelly was there, hugging him and smiling which was awesome, but his daddy wasn’t there and it was okay too, because Genim knew that he had to work a lot.

They went in and Nick built some LEGO castle with him until Derek arrived, and everything was like nothing had changed. Only there were his new pills and his sometime headaches which helped a lot at first, but as time passed Genim’s jitters became stronger and he could barely concentrate, seeing strange things and getting confused. It made getting friends at kindergarten impossible and he had nowhere to go because Aunt Kelly and Uncle Reed were suddenly gone and Nick needed all the help, because they weren’t coming back. Genim’s only help was Derek who, while still just as sulky and grumpy as ever, always listened to him and took him to the forest pretending to hunt for great treasures or wild rabbits.

Then elementary school arrived and Genim became Stiles, something he hated at first and whined about it to Derek all the time. His teacher started it, being lame and unable to pronounce his name which was simply ridiculous, because it was nothing hard at all. Fortunately, no one really talked to him in his class, because some of them remembered him from kindergarten and even with the new name, he was still just the strange kid who couldn’t shut up. Sometimes Genim could understand them not wanting to put up with him, he could see how irritating his rambling was. He could see it in the way his dad’s smiles strained when Genim went on and on about some inane and completely random thing that had nothing to do with what he started to talk about. It was there in her mom’s eyes when he talked about his wolves, his obsession never ending and worrying, especially because there was just no way that werewolves existed. Nick tried his best to keep up with him, but he was alone now with no parents and had police school to think about and he just couldn’t do it anymore.

Things were slipping away from Genim, and every time he tried to express himself precisely, focusing on that one very important thing he had to say, he couldn’t do it. His mom was worried and did her best to help him, but Genim with all his eight years of wisdom didn’t think anyone could help him. Not even Derek who was already a sixth grader and so big now. They were still friends, but Genim could see how the strange almost visible bond between them was straining and giving in to the pressure that was caused by an unfathomable force. They weren’t allowed to wrestle or venture into the woods anymore, and Derek’s mood swings became nearly unbearable, but Genim never left him, not even when he snarled and snapped, breaking Genim’s already fractured heart a little bit more.

Still Genim smiled and chatted, soaking up the older boy’s attention because even with their fights and the secrets Derek kept, they were friends and could always rely on each other.

“I think something’s wrong with mom,” Genim whispered one night when they were camping in the garden of his home. “Dad drinks a lot more coffee and is barely ever home, and mom gets this strange look on her face sometimes. Then sometimes she forgets things and her smiles are all fake. And there is the whole patrol thing going on, and it’s so crazy and I don’t know what’s going on.”

“Dad and Uncle Peter are worried about something too,” Derek replied just as quietly, nuzzling into Genim’s neck softly. They were lying tangled on Genim’s old blanket, staring at the starry sky.

“I saw that new family yesterday, the Argents.” Genim blurted out, hating his brain more than ever. He didn’t want to change the topic, no, the Argents were part of the topic, but it was hard to remember when the thoughts sped through his mind like a hurricane, leaving behind nothing but crumbs of information like the fact that Mr. Argent had two children, but only his daughter lived with him and his wife. He got a glimpse of a distorted and scary image, but it floated away and left behind only a name, Kate; Mr. Argent’s daughter. There was a frosty smile there too and Genim suddenly really didn’t like Kate Argent, not only because she was much older than him or Derek, but because there was something weird and really not friendly about her. “I don’t like their daughter. She’s creepy.”

Derek huffed, and buried himself deeper into Genim’s neck, nipping at the skin there. “Don’t care. Not our business.” They slept curled around each other, safe in their false cocoon of safety not suspecting that their peace would be destroyed utterly in a few months.

On the first day of fourth grade, some strange kid with a mop of unruly black hair and really tanned skin sat at Genim’s desk and shot Genim a wide if a bit dumb grin when he told him that it was his place.

“Miss Perry told me to sit here,” the kid said causing Genim to sigh in annoyance. Trust Miss Perry to ignore his existence to the point where she appointed _his_ seat to someone else. “But you can have it back if you want.”

Genim hesitated for a moment, shoving his hands in his pockets to hide his spasming fingers. Here was a boy who had yet to mock or laugh at him which meant that there might be a tiny little chance that the boy wanted to be Genim’s friend, but if he said the wrong thing then the boy might totally refuse to ever talk to him again. Which would suck because sure the kid looked a little slow in a goofy way, but he also looked like he would make a good friend. Or at least a passable one. Certainly not like Derek who was the greatest friend ever, even when he was growling at Genim for talking about how shiny found Lydia’s hair. It was totally okay that Derek didn’t like girls, Genim didn’t like them either, but Lydia’s hair was really pretty, although it was the only pretty thing on her no matter what everyone said.

Genim frowned, wondering how could anyone find Lydia pretty. Okay so she had a beautiful face most of the times, but it was totally some sort of mask, made of who knows what. Genim had seen it slip once during recess, when Lydia had a fight with Jennice Greenberg. It freaked the living soul out of him when he saw the wrinkled skin and the sharp fangs that enhanced her scowl as she stomped away after humiliating Jennice to the point where she was nothing more than a mess of ugly tears. Not that Genim told anyone about that because it seemed no one had seen it and continued worshiping her. Oh and now the nameless new kid was looking at him strangely too, making his racing thoughts freeze for only a millisecond before they toppled over an invisible wall and made him blurt out the first thing that came to the surface.

“Your hair is funny.” Mortification flooded him instantly and Genim could feel as his face heated up, turning him into a huge and weird looking tomato. “Shit! I mean no, you can keep it, Miss Perry would just yell at me for taking _your_ place and give me detention or something and it’s only the first day of school and my dad would murder me if I got a detention on my first day again like last year. Not that I’m a bad kid or something, of course I’m not! I’m really great and smart, like crazy smart, but I’m not mean like Jackson who’s not here yet, but you’ll see. He’s really mean and in the soccer team and everybody likes him, but in reality he’s just a jerk. Oh and please don’t tell my mom I used that word, okay?” He took a breath because it started to become a problem, not to mention the new kid’s mouth had dropped open and was staring at him like Genim was some sort of alien, which he was not of course. “Oh and my name’s Genim, Genim Stilinski.”

“Jenny? But you look like a boy…”

“NOT Jenny. It’s Genim. Gen- _im_. It’s Turkish or something and isn’t even pronounced like this correctly, but it was my gramps’ name and it’s special and I like it.” At the boy’s confused stare Genim suppressed a groan. Okay, so his name wasn’t one of the most common ones and it confused a lot of people, but it wasn’t that hard! His mom went as far as allowing his dad and the entire family on his side to use the English pronunciation instead of the original that Genim’s mom and grandma used. Unfortunately no one seemed to appreciate the gesture because instead of making the effort to ask him or his mom, they created a new ridiculous name for him. “Stiles.” It was out of his mouth just as the pathetic fabrication breached his mind, the word burning his tongue like acid, but if the new boy decided to use it instead of his surname like many of his classmates did then it was already better than anything he ever encountered before. “Just call me Stiles. Ridiculously unimaginative but what do you expect from a bunch of seven-year-olds?”

“Oh, sure!” That goofy grin was back and the kid went as far as sticking his hand out, offering his friendship without a second thought. “Scott. My name is Scott and I guess you’re my first friend at this place.”

“Cool!” Genim grinned widely, shaking the tanned hand happily.

He was already making plans for introducing Scott and Derek to each other, so they all could be friends and play in Genim’s garden after school and at Derek’s house at the weekend. Except Derek totally ignored Scott when Genim tried to introduce him to his older friend, refusing to talk to him and not even staying for dinner that night even though they had sleepover plans. Of course it saddened Genim, especially when things didn’t seem to change in the next few weeks. It left Genim no choice but to divide his time between his two friends, soothing Derek’s grumpy huffs and sulky scowls with whispered conversations and secret cuddles in the death of the night when they should have been both long asleep.

Seeing strange things became more frequent, and in turn falling asleep became a much greater challenge than keeping his illness a secret from Scott, who while not the sharpest tool in the shed started to pick up Genim’s strange habits of zoning out and constant chattering. Genim still refused with talk to his mom or dad about his problem though, mostly because they seemed so stressed and tired all the time, barely having time to tuck Genim in at night or pack his lunch. He understood that his parents were working hard, he really did, but it didn’t make him miss them less. He didn’t complain though and not just because he got to spend his afternoons at either Derek or Scott’s house, but because he was almost ten and a big boy. Not as big as Derek or Laura who was already in college, but he was a big boy and didn’t care how many times Derek called him runt or midget during their secret wrestling matches.

Then, out of nowhere, everything changed again, shattering Genim’s life and throwing the shards into the deepest pits of hell. At first he didn’t realize that something was wrong when after an impromptu sleepover at Derek’s it was his dad who came to take him home. He bounced over to the tall, uniform clad form standing in the middle of the Hale’s kitchen, only throwing a quick grin to Auntie Patricia before hugging his dad’s waist, already rambling endlessly about his previous day and night.

“… and Derek is a meanie, dad, he totally stole my fry and then said that it wasn’t him! And-” A broad, strangely cold hand landed in his messy hair, silencing him instantly.

“Genim, I…” His dad’s voice broke, and Genim’s head snapped up, reeling back in horror at the sight of the sickly pale, tear-streaked face. “S-son… I’m so… so sorry…”

“Dad?” Genim clutched his father’s shirt even tighter, hands shaking when no answer came. “Daddy? What’s it? You okay? Are you in pain? Sick?” The questions fired from Genim’s lips like madly barking guns, but his dad only shook his head making Genim’s stomach drop to his feet. “Daddy, please? Say something!” This time he screamed, losing his patience. “Say something!” he demanded, not even bothering to wipe away the tears that spilled from his panicked eyes.

“G- Son, your mother…” Genim didn’t hear the rest, he didn’t need to. Blood was rushing in his ears, rendering him deaf to the world, but he didn’t care, just like he didn’t care that his dad’s mouth was still moving, not when he was spouting such cruel lies. Because that was what his words were; big fat lies. Somebody shrieked, the sound sharp and painful, but Genim was surrounded by the familiar painful haze that sometimes still found him in spite of his pills. He could almost hear his family’s appalled whispers and feel their bewildered glances, causing him to claw at his crawling skin and fight against the restraining straps that reminded him of the hospital. He wanted his mom, he wanted her sweet, lovely smell and loving smiles, but all he could see was flashing blue flames and faces of bloodthirsty monsters that all taunted and laughed at him, say that his mom was gone.

They were lies too. All of them. His mom was at home waiting for him and his dad, making dinner and ready to hear every detail of Genim’s day. And Genim would tell her everything, making her smile softly and hug him tightly to prove she was there and would never leave. “I’m here, sweetheart,” she would say, kissing Genim’s forehead. Except there were no kinds words or motherly hugs, just sharp fangs, flooding tears and unbearable screams. Then a roaring growl ripped through the air, almost penetrating Genim’s daze and bringing him back to reality and heartbreaking lies, and strong arms wound around his middle, pulling him close to a familiar chest.

“D’rek,’ he gasped, the pain and the shadowy fog still there, but slowly lessening. “Lies… all lies.”

“… sleep.” Sleep, Derek’s rumbling voice ordered, and maybe Genim was just caught in a nightmare, a bad dream full of real agony and tragedy.

“Sleep… yeah.”

The screaming was cut off, leaving behind choking darkness and tension filled silence, but Derek was there, curled around Genim’s back like always during their snuggles, which could only mean that the silence was just another part of his nightmare and soon he would wake up to the smell of frying bacon and Derek’s awesome scent. He would forget everything and they would have a huge breakfast with Genim’s mom and maybe dad, his real dad who wasn’t a stinky liar and then Genim and Derek would spend the day playing tag or hide and seek, until Derek had to go home.

But things didn’t go according to his plans. When he finally woke up, Derek was right there next to him, holding Genim tight. His dark head was buried into Genim’s neck and he was breathing deeply and evenly, clearly still asleep which was not how it usually happened, but after that nightmare last night, Genim wasn’t about to complain. Or he hadn’t been about to complain until he saw the pointy ears and extra amount of hair on his friend’s face alongside with the terrifying fangs that glinted faintly in Derek’s half-opened mouth. Genim’s breath hitched, his heart racing in fear and excitement, because he finally had proof. Proof that his mom’s tales were true, and that wolves who walked as humans existed. His head was spinning and the urge to touch was unbearable, commanding his hand to reach out and caress the black fur like hair that had grown on his best friend’s face.

It was silky and soft, making Genim wonder if it would turn coarse when Derek grew up. He continued petting his friend’s fur, completely forgetting about being scared or confused; his mind was calm and perfectly alright with having a changing wolf in his bed who happened to be his best friend since forever. Derek was purring - or doing something that sounded like he was purring no matter how much he denied it later -, clearly still asleep, or so Genim thought until the older boy’s eyes snapped open, glowing a really pretty blue.

“Grimm.”

 


	2. Chapter 1 - Woody Murder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Little Genim Stilinski has grown up and he's ready to show the world - or at least a tiny part of it - that he's not the same naive, weak kid that had allowed even his supposedly best friend to walk over him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait, but it's not easy to write 10k long chapters even with the detailed chapter plans. Not to mention Internet is a luxury at the moment thanks to the town I'm spending my summer in, still I can't thank you guys enough for the kudos, bookmarks and reviews. You rock!
> 
> mmleach, Ash, Ororo and Dyrth you should have gotten your review reply in your inboxes. If not, feel free to send a message!
> 
> Now a little bit about the story. I decided to add Isaac, Erica and Boyd to the picture, although they will have different roles than they have in the show and will appear later. Also, I don't know if you noticed this, but in this story, Derek is only twenty, not that it has any relevance to the plot itself. 
> 
> This chapter is unbetaed and barely chacked or edited for that matter, but I wanted to update so sorry for the mistakes.

**_Chapter 1 - Woody Murder_ **

 

 

Stiles ignored the guilty twinge that refused to stop nagging in the back of his mind as he slipped his slightly modified Beretta 92FS into its holster on his gun belt. The gun was an early birthday present from the mysterious Aunt Marie, who he was forbidden to meet or even talk to, two years ago, and Stiles adored the weapon. It was a million times more badass than those ridiculous Derringers his Instructor - Stiles refused to call him Master, because his mind was scarred enough without imagining Bruce Hardass Extraordinaire Lawrence in those buttless leather pants with a whip and handcuffs in his hand. - forced him to carry for forever even though Stiles was a prodigy when it came to shooting. He was able to use anything from a bow (he hated those motherfuckers and their tricky strings) to a flamethrower (he was only allowed to try it once and how lame was that?), but it didn’t matter because Instructor Lawrence had forbidden him to carry anything but a Derringer. 

 

Well what Lawrence didn’t know, didn’t hurt him, especially when he wasn’t there to scream at him. Of course, Stiles understood that Derringers were easier to handle, not to mention smaller, but he didn’t care, because his Beretta was like Harry Potter’s holly and phoenix feather wand; the extension of his arm. Seriously, the gun was the most awesome thing he had ever gotten, except for his jeep for his sixteenth birthday, not to mention it was super pretty with the runes carved into its barrel and grip.  Thurisaz for strength and directed force,  Hagalaz for harmony and destruction,  Algiz  for protection and defense and  Sowilo for honor and justice. It was really a piece of art and Stiles knew it would aid him should he need it during his investigation that night.

 

He quickly strapped a silver dagger on his left forearm, ignoring Lawrence gruff nagging in his head that told him he sucked at throwing knives and using daggers. However, it was still more practical than carrying his sword, that was supposedly forged by the same dwarfs who made and cursed  Tyrfing,  around like some sort of lunatic who got sucked into one of those RPG cults. Not to mention he could never explain it to Scott without sounding crazy or drawing the attention of the Big Shots in the Wesen Council or whatever it was called. And drawing attention was not something Stiles wanted, even if showing off his awesome fighting skills and endurance would surely have landed him a girlfriend. Unfortunately being a Grimm, a descendant of the very Brothers Grimm who hunted evil supernatural creatures, that totally existed no matter what society said, meant that he had to hide and lie to everyone around him. 

 

It also cost him his best friend, but Stiles refused to think about Derek Hale and his cruel accusations before the older boy left him standing in the middle of the blasted cemetery, never looking back. He got over it, using his cheerful, klutzy facade and if he had taken his Grimm training more seriously than ever, no one noticed it. But that was ages ago, and a lot of things had changed since Stiles was a snot-nosed ten-year-old who suffered from severe panic attacks and ADHD. He was a fully trained Grimm who lived in the most boring town on Earth, because seriously the Wesen population in Beacon Hills were the most peaceful people he had ever met. Except for Lydia Martin who - and Stiles was sure of this - was totally planning to take over the world. 

 

Stiles suppressed a groan as his ever helpful mind supplied him with images of Lydia sitting on a throne made of human bones, watching in smug delight as the world burned around her while humans screamed for mercy. Yeah, not the best way to prepare himself for looking for a dead body. In the woods. At night. That groan slipped through his lips anyway, and he scolded himself for acting like an idiot. He was armed and Scott would be there with him, not that his friend would be useful in any way, but it was still better than going alone and getting mauled by a mountain lion or a stray Blutbat that decided to build a nest in the forest now that the Hale pack was gone and snack on unsuspecting humans. 

 

“Okay Stiles, you are driving yourself nuts,” he muttered under his breath as he locked the door of her mother’s study that was in reality the wonderland of supernatural lore and weaponry. “You’re strong and invincible. Nothing can hurt you and the Wesen people here are great guys. You have nothing to worry about.”

 

Sure he didn’t. The forest at night was super creepy and Scott’s wheezing sounds didn’t help either. Stiles’ blood was humming with the need to draw his gun or at least his dagger or knife he hastily slipped into his boot before leaving his house, but with Scott there he could do nothing but listen to the sounds around them and stay alert. His father was out there somewhere, looking for the remains with his men which caused Stiles’ guilt to flare once again, this time with more force. A part of him knew that he shouldn’t have come, endangering his friend too in his haste to be the brave superhero he was sure as hell not despite his powers. His dad was reluctant to allow him to get proper training, but his newly awakening senses and the loss of his mother wreaked havoc on Stiles’ mind and body, and in the end he relented and called Aunt Marie himself. Still no amount of training would make him allow Stiles to act like a proper Grimm, to be a guard and enforcer amongst Wesen-kind. 

 

And up till that day Stiles respected his dad’s decision, mostly because the Wesen in the area were peaceful, but it was still something. However, this murder with the thorn apart body just hit too close to home for him to ignore it. Memories of his mother’s mutilated body on the crime scene photos surfaced in his mind, and he had to close his eyes for a second to collect himself. Even after eight years, it was almost unbearable to think of his mother’s death and the knowledge that the reason behind it was never found out. The reports said it was a mountain lion attack, a devastating coincidence just when Stiles’ mom’s car decided to break down on her way home from a meeting with some woman called Katherine Angles in Burney.

 

Stiles didn’t believe in coincidences, especially not in ones that seemed to convenient. Not to mention, the reports he managed to Having the knowledge he possessed now made drawing conclusions easier, but knowing that his sweet and kind-hearted mother who was friends with everyone in town actually was murdered by someone - possibly because of her heritage - only caused Stiles more distress and made him burn with the desire to find out what really had happened that day. He had pages ans pages of notes hidden in a drawer where he kept some porn mags, and how pathetic was it that he was probably the only teenager out there that kept porn magazines in his bedside drawer as a decoy? 

 

Stiles huffed at his life to express his disbelief at the level of lameness, but then his always overcharged brain decided to scold him for not paying attention and he tuned back to his surroundings just in time to hear Scott grumble, “I don’t think we’re going to find anything.”

 

“It has to be here somewhere,” Stiles replied, listening closely to the nearby sounds. “There is no chance that whatever killed her took half of her body and left behind the other half.”

 

“Yeah, well this forest is like huge, Stiles. And I don’t wan to end up like that girl. How do you even know she was a girl?” Scott babbled, his breath and heartbeat quickly turning into panicked flutters. 

 

“They found half of her body, dude, what do you think?” Stiles retorted, slowing his steps a bit. “And you have that baseball bat in your hand to use it if anything happens. Not to mention, instead of asking dumb questions, you should pull out your inhaler and do your magic before your asthma gives us away.”

 

“It’s not like I’m doing it on purpose!” Scott wheezed out, fishing for his inhaler clumsily while he tried to not drop the bat in his left hand.

 

Stiles rolled his eyes, stopping altogether while his friend managed to latch onto his magic pipe and got some much needed air in his lungs. He could hear the sound of booted feet crunching dry leaves coming closer and cursed both Scott for being his idiotic self and himself for not paying enough attention and allowing his thoughts and partner to distract him. He scowled to himself, quickly coming up and aborting emergency plans, but all of them ended with at least one of them either getting caught by the cops and Stiles’ dad or Scott getting mauled by whatever was prowling the woods. Out of the two options he still chose facing the livid Sheriff to losing Scott should they get separated, so instead of acting like an idiot and letting his friend run off on his own, he grabbed Scott’s hand and yanked him behind a tree.

 

“You okay?” he whispered, half of his attention still on the closing on cops.

 

“Yeah, better.”

 

“Awesome! Because we’re gonna run and can’t get separated until we’re near the edge of the forest,” Stiles said, ignoring the frantic look on Scott’s face. 

 

“I’m not sure-”

 

“Do you want to get caught by my dad?!” 

 

“Well no, but-”

 

“No buts, we’re doing this or you can face your mom’s heartbreaking disappointed expression she had perfected at that super secret Mom School they all seem to go to,” Stiles cut in once again, silencing the younger boy. “The dogs are almost here, they’re following our trails, so let’s go.”

 

He didn’t count to three, he just started to run and held back for Scott’s sake, knowing his friend would never be able to keep up with his strength and agility. They ran, barely paying attention to their surroundings, their only goal was to get out of the forest before anyone could catch up with them. Stiles could hear the dogs’ excited barks, but refused to look back, not when the edge of the forest was so close. Then out of nowhere, Scott tripped and fell over spectacularly, his inhaler sailing through the air and getting lost in the darkness. Stiles withheld a groan and turned back to the younger boy, crouching down next to his head.

 

“You okay there, buddy?” he whispered, huffing at Scott’s irritated grunt. “Yeah, thought so.”

 

“Shut up,” Scott groaned, slowly raising his head to glare at him. “I lost my inhaler.”

 

“Saw it flying out of your hand. Sorry.” 

 

Heavy feet pounded on the ground, combat boots trampling over fallen branches and sneaky little plants. They had to move and quickly, or their escape was for nothing, but Scott was still lying sprawled and refusing to move. Stiles didn’t want to leave his friend behind, but they were almost out of the woods now, and if Stiles tricked the cops into following him instead of Scott the other boy would have the time to reach the jeep and lay low until Stiles got the chance to drive them home.

 

“Okay, Scottie, you’re going to stay here until you can’t hear my and the cops footsteps, then you’re going to sprint to the jeep and hide in the back,” Stiles ordered, curling Scott’s fingers around his car keys.

 

“But my inhaler…”

 

“I don’t give a fuck about your magic pipe! Your ass is the priority here,” came the snippy retort causing Scott to snort and slowly get up. “Just stay here and don’t do anything stupid, for god’s sake!”

 

“Sure. Like it was my idea to snoop around the police infested forest.”

 

“Very funny,” Stiles grumbled, slapping Scott on his shoulder extra hard and taking pleasure from his pained little grunt. “Take care, okay?”

 

“Yeah, yeah. Just go before both of us get caught.”

 

Stiles nodded and took off, making sure he was extra loud and easy to follow. His mind was in overdrive like always, making up lies and ridiculous excuses for his dad, but by the time the dogs and the police surrounded him, his only useful idea was a very toned down version of the truth accompanied by a sheepish grin that quickly melted off his face at the sight of his dad’s expression.

 

“I won’t ask what you’re doing here,” his dad hissed, grabbing Stiles’ arm a vice-like grip. “I’m not interested in your half-assed lies.”

 

“I wasn’t going to lie, you know,” Stiles answered, running his tongue over his chapped lower lip.

 

“Just like you promised you won’t try to play the hero?” his dad asked in turn, making Stiles flinch and lower his eyes. “So where is Scott? Because you couldn’t have been stupid enough to come alone.”

 

Stiles hunched his shoulders even more, not daring to look at the older man. “Scott’s not here. I thought it’ll be too dangerous…”

 

“So it was too dangerous for him, but not for you?” He didn’t protest when his father started to drag him towards his jeep. He knew it was going to happen, he just didn’t think it would hurt so much to see the disappointment and anger shadowing his dad’s features.

 

“I’m armed, dad, and I know what I am doing,” Stiles replied, this time looking directly in those piercing greenish eyes. “I was born to do this, and no matter how much you deny it, I’m not a useless, vulnerable kid.”

 

“You are sixteen, Stiles! Sixteen, which means you are a kid, and you being a supernatural being won’t change that fact.”

 

“Really? And what are you going to do when your mystery murderer turns out to be a Wesen? Because there is a chance-”

 

“No. You won’t get involved.” His dad’s tone was final and determined. “What you will do is getting in your car, driving home and going to sleep, because school starts tomorrow. I don’t want to hear another word about the Wesen world and the case, am I clear?”

 

“Yes,” Stiles agreed, nodding his head. 

 

They reached the edge of the forest and he could see his car from where they were standing, but Stiles couldn’t even take comfort from the lovely sight of his baby, because he knew it wasn’t over. There would be long talks the next day, or the day after that, depending on when his father could find the time to break away from his job. There would be grounding and disappointed frowns, but it wouldn’t really matter, because no matter how much his dad tried, he could never be really there. And this time Stiles refused to be the good boy who did everything to please his father. Not when said father was a mere human and facing supernatural threat with nothing but toy guns and useless laws. 

 

“We’ll talk about this when I get home.” Stiles just nodded and got into the jeep. 

 

The key was in the ignition, however something sticky was smeared over the key chain and it took everything in his power to not narrow his eyes, when the smell of blood reached his nose. He looked at his dad who was watching him stonily from a few feet away, then started the car and put it into reverse.

 

“Scott? Buddy?” he called worriedly. 

 

“Stiles?” came the groggy answer from the back of the jeep. “Got bitten by a huge dog… or wolf… It hurts.”

 

“Oh shit.” The curse tumbled out of Stiles’ mouth before he could have stopped it. He couldn’t afford to start panicking, but the urge was strong. He shouldn’t have left Scott alone, not when his friend was vulnerable and basically had a tasty invitation written all over his body for the predators of the forest. “Is it bleeding? Where did it bite you? What did it look like?” He barely recognized his voice, as he fired off the questions, his eyes never leaving the road in front of him. He had to get them home and take a look at Scott’s wound, hoping it was not serious enough to require stitches. 

 

“Didn’t see it,” Scott whimpered, his breath hitching. There was a moment of silence that allowed Stiles’ brain to over think the entire situation, only to have it stutter to a halt when Scott spoke up once again. “Found the girl.”

 

Stiles needed a few seconds to figure out what his friend was talking about, and his foot instinctively stepped on the break as the words registered in his brain, making his jeep screech to a halt. 

 

“You what?!” he exclaimed, wincing at the volume of his own voice. “Sorry, sorry. Where did you find her?” he added, more calmly, even though inside, he was vibrating from nervous excitement. 

 

Scott grunted something, that sounded like “tripped over her,” but Stiles couldn’t be sure, because it was muffled by the pained hiss that accompanied the already distorted words. Stiles thanked God or whoever lived up there finding shit load of fun in messing with the lowly humans’ lives that Beacon Hills was a small town and reaching his house only took five minutes. He quickly parked his jeep and jumped out, opening Scott’s door. His friend was lying on the backseat, groaning softly and holding his side in hope to stop the heavy bleeding of his wound.

 

“Dammit, I’m so sorry, buddy,” he murmured, biting his lip.

 

“It’s okay,” Scott grunted, slowly sitting up, his face scrunched up in pain. “Won’t get chewed out by mom.”

 

“Yeah, instead you got chewed on by some rabid dog.”

 

“I’ll have a kickass scar.” 

 

“Sure, and there is a big chance you’ll need a shot against who knows what,” Stiles retorted, draping the younger boy’s arm over his shoulder. “Why didn’t you use the bat?”

 

“Dropped it when I tripped over the girl’s body… or other half of it,” Scott said, sounding sheepish, as Stiles opened the front door.

 

 

After some maneuvering that caused Scott to groan loudly, they stumbled up the stairs and into the bathroom. He helped Scott over to the bathtub, sitting him down on the edge before he knelt in front of him and gently pried the blood soaked and torn material of his T-shirt away from the still bleeding wound. He didn’t reel back from the sight, but it was a near thing. The skin was mauled, showing raw flesh and the imprint of sharp fangs too big to belong to an ordinary wolf or rabid dog. It left only one type of canine, because it sure wasn’t a mountain lion or a stray Tigermacht, and it didn’t bode well for them, even if the who thing made no sense. Inwardly groaning in dismay, because it was just Stiles’ luck to have a rouge Blutbat decide to snack on Stiles’ only friend, he ordered Scott to hold his T-shirt while he quickly grabbed the first aid kit from the cabinet under the sink. 

 

“This is going to sting a bit,” he warned his friend as he poured a good amount of disinfectant on a piece of gauze. 

 

Only it must have stung a lot instead of a little if Scott’s high-pitched scream was anything to go by. His body jerked violently, causing him to fall back straight into the tub, slamming his head into the cold porcelain. Stiles winced in sympathy, but could do nothing; the wound needed to be cleaned before it got infected and caused Scott to die. At least, Wesen couldn’t pass their genes through their bites like those mythical werewolves, because then they had more serious problems than worrying about possible infection and the need of stitches. 

 

“Fuck, Stiles!” 

 

“I need to clean your wound, so stop being a fucking baby about!” Stiles sniped back, losing his patience. 

 

“Well it fucking hurts!” Scott snapped, slowly climbing out of the tub. 

 

“And now I feel like a gender-swapped Belle to your pathetic and not so heroic Beast.” Stiles couldn’t help but crack a smile at his own comment while Scott let out a weak huffy snicker. 

 

They settled back, Scott whining and grumbling, while Stiles did his best to exterminate every bacterium or whatever Blutbaden carried in their saliva. Stiles could just imagine as the furry little micro shits clung to Scott’s fresh, pink flesh, bathing in his body heat and watching as their vile friends surfed in Scott’s blood, using tiny little surfs and cackling evilly as they tried to get into his blood system. He shook his head, trying to get rid of his crazy thoughts, but this version was still better than the one where his friend suddenly turned into a raging, bloodthirsty monster and tore his head off. He quickly fished another piece of gauze out of the first aid kit and taped it to the wound, before he sat down just admiring his work for a moment.

 

“Erm… Stiles?” Scott sounded uncertain as he tapped Stiles’ shoulder, urging him to back away so he could stand up.

 

“What?”

 

“I need a shower.” 

 

The urge to hide his face in his hand was strong, but with admirable self-control Stiles managed to ignore it and simply stared at his moronic best friend, who was quickly moving from his “I’m so sorry, I fucked up” list to his “I’m going to murder you with my own hands” list. Sure, Stiles could have thought about ordering him to take a shower before he started to clean him up, but he was kinda panicking and too worried for Scott’s life to think about the idiot’s personal hygiene. Though if he was honest with himself, Scott probably had better things to do - like groaning and whining over a not exactly life threatening bite - than thinking about getting rid of the dirt and sweat that clung to his body. Unfortunately, Stiles was running out of fucks to give, even if technically Scott’s injury was his fault.

 

“Well, you’re out of luck, buddy,” he said, shrugging. “Freshly cleaned and bandaged wound, no shower.”

 

“But, I stink and I can’t go home like this!” Scott pressed, pulling his best kicked-puppy look. “Mom is going to kill me…”

 

“I could give you a sponge bath.” So maybe Stiles shouldn’t have enjoyed the situation as much as he did, but messing with Scott was always one of his favorite free time activities. “Clean you up some more…”

 

“No thanks!” Scott squeaked, his face flaming up before he realized Stiles was only teasing him. His expression instantly darkened and in retaliation he punched Stiles in his arm, scowling like a disgruntled puppy. Not that Stiles was in a hurry to inform him that his best intimidating expression was less scary than the dust bunnies under his bed. “You’re an asshole. I almost died tonight, you should show a little more compassion.”

 

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry,” Stiles replied, sobering up at the mention of his friend’s near death experience. “I honestly thought you were safe, and you should have been safe.” 

 

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, wanting nothing more than to share the truth with Scott, but he just couldn’t. The younger boy could never understand or believe him, because he was a simple human, living in blissful ignorance. It wasn’t the first time Stiles wished he was normal, but certainly the first time in a long while. The last time he wanted to get rid of his heightened senses and super strong body that belonged to the Grimm in him was after Derek’s family died and Derek blamed him for it, not caring that he was just a scrawny ten-year-old who loved the Hales and would cut off his own hands before he hurt them. His age and love for the family didn’t matter, because in the end, a millennia old feud had won against the childish love forged bond connecting him and Derek.

 

And here he was again, almost losing his only friend, only this time, it was really Stiles’ fault, and that knowledge was a hell of a bitter pill to swallow. He looked at Scott, and even though he was still a bit miffed about the younger boy’s idiocy and inability to stay out of trouble, he couldn’t help but feel relieved that nothing serious happened to him. Scott was staring back at him in confusion and Stiles quickly plastered a goofy smile on his face, shooing the depressing memories and self-hatred to where they belonged, the back of his mind. 

 

“Okay, what you say to getting some shut eye? I even promise to endure your stench if you do the same,” he offered, draping his arm around Scott’s shoulders. His friend grimaced, but after a minute he nodded. “Don’t need to be so enthusiastic, dude! Not to mention we have to make sure you don’t get blood poisoning or some nasty infection that finishes what your mysterious canine friend started.”

 

“Ha ha, dumbass,” Scott grumbled, but allowed himself to be led to Stiles’ bed. “What about my mom? She told me I have to stay at home tonight because of school.” 

 

“Call her? Use your nonexistent bullshitting skills and tell her you wanted to spend the last day of freedom with me for old times’ sake or something.” 

 

“What? No! That’s totally lame!” Stiles raised an eyebrow at the younger boy’s protests, because seriously? What kind of moron placed their ego before their self-preservation? Obviously the kind that was called Scott McCall. “Don’t look at me like that, Stiles, we’re bros but this is taking it a bit too far.”

 

“What? Having a sleepover before the start of the school year? What are you? A preteen girl who is pressured into believing that Disney Princesses are not cool, just because her friends discovered make-up and trashy music?” he asked, voice oozing sarcasm. “I admit it was mostly my fault that you’re injured, but if you believe that I’ll let you go home and die just because you’re a fucking idiot, then think again, buddy.”

 

“That’s not it, you know that,” Scott argued. “It’s just… We’re sixteen, Stiles. Going on seventeen-”

 

“You turned sixteen like two weeks ago, dude,” Stiles interjected, but was ignored as his friend continued his rant.

 

“- and I want this year to be awesome. I’m so fed up with being a loser, the laughing stock of the school. I want to play lacrosse, and play it for real instead of sitting on the bench and watching as Jackson gets everything I want even though he is the greatest asshole I’ve ever met. I just want this year to be different, and I don’t think that sleepovers and video games are the key to achieve it.”

 

“Wow, you’re really a fucking preteen girl.” Stiles felt oddly betrayed by his friend’s words. 

 

It was a deep, resonating pang spreading in his chest, the realization that Scott was growing out of their friendship. He didn’t say it outright and probably didn’t realize it himself, but it didn’t change the fact that he was leaving Stiles behind. A part of Stiles was ready to do anything to keep Scott by his side, to make sure nothing changed, but all in all he knew it wasn’t worth it. Partially, it was his fault anyways. He was the one who had latched onto Scott’s refreshing innocence and oblivious humanity after Derek had left, clinging and never letting go in spite of everything his instincts had told him. Everything was safe and simple when he was around Scott, and his shattered heart needed the illusion of normalcy even if it meant he was lying to himself and selfishly endangered Scott’s life too. However, they were not children anymore - it was the first sensible thing that had left Scott’s mouth -, and it was time Stiles accepted the fact and stopped acting like a coward. It was time he lived up to his training and did what he was destined to do; it wasn’t like he was going to lose Scott in any way. 

 

So instead of getting angry and starting a fight, he just snorted at Scott’s sulky expression and reached for his cell phone in his back pocket.“Take off your pants and sleep, I’ll talk to your mom, lameass,” he said, snickering when his friend flipped him off and burrowed himself under Stiles’ duvet, turning his back to him. “I admit defeat! You’re the epitome of maturity.”

 

Stiles rolled his eyes at the other’s antics and dialed Melissa’s number. He didn’t expect any difficulty and not just because Scott’s mom adored him. Melissa had been doing her best to make her son happy, doubling her efforts ever since Scott’s father left, but Scott mostly took it as a way to do anything he pleased. At least he still didn’t have his driving license and had no chance of getting a car anytime soon, because it would only bring more troubles, especially if Scott was about to go through with his grandiose plans and become the new Jackson Whittemore. 

 

The conversation with Melissa was short and went without a hitch, just like Stiles expected. He could almost hear her eye roll from the other end of the line at her son’s brattiness, and it made the slight burning feeling in his heart almost easy to ignore. However, ignoring the feeling didn’t make it easier to handle the familiar bitterness that assaulted him. He couldn’t understand his friend and the way he dismissed his mother who was always there for him, when Stiles would have given everything he possessed to see his mother or just hear her voice once again. Even after all these years, he was still grieving, unable to let his mother’s death go, not when there were so many questions left. Questions no one seemed to be able or willing to answer, content to leave the entire tragedy slip away and get lost in the suffocating haze of time. 

 

But Stiles wasn’t ready to let go. He yearned to solve the mystery and he would not rest until he caught whoever had done it. It wasn’t over, and until there was the slightest chance that his mother’s case was connected to the murder of this unknown woman, he refused to roll over and continue his routine as the Sheriff’s bumbling idiot son who tripped over thin air and could not concentrate for five minutes. He just needed to make better plans and not get caught. Which meant, not involving Scott, at all. 

 

Except, the next morning, all of Stiles’ sketchy plans were shot to hell, because Scott’s wound miraculously disappeared, leaving behind nothing, not even a tiny scar. Both of them were left staring at the unblemished skin, mouth agape in shock, but for two different reasons. Scott couldn’t believe that it happened at all, his mind unable to digest the fact he was healed, while Stiles was resorting to his general facial expression because it was still a million times better than the panic that was coursing through his veins, whipping up an emotional storm.

 

“It’s gone…” Trust Scott to state the obvious, although Stiles could somewhat understood his befuddlement. 

 

“Maybe you dreamed the whole thing?” he tried, but if the look on his friend’s face was anything to go by, then it was a really sad attempt at altering another person’s memory. Funny, it worked much better in movies. Or maybe it had something to do with the bloody bandage left abandoned on the edge of Stiles’ desk. “Or you’re a werewolf.”

 

“Don’t even think about it!” Scott warned, brows knitting together.

 

“Have no idea what you’re talking about, buddy,” Stiles sing-songed and even cracked a grin, waggling his eyebrows that earned a swat and a disbelieving snort from Scott. Well, getting bitten by a werewolf was still more believable than by the Big Bad Wolf from the story of the Brothers Grimm. It sounded like a very weak lie even mentally, so there was no way in hell Stiles would share his renewed theory with the younger boy. Not to mention he was still not 100% sure and would need to do some research, because Instructor Lawrence sure didn’t mention anything about Wesen infection during his lectures. 

 

“Sure, you don’t have at least a dozen dog jokes in the ready, waiting to be cracked.”

 

Stiles just smiled angelically, and tossed a clean T-shirt at Scott’s head and headed for the bathroom. “Dad is already up, so you have to use the window. But only if you’re sure you’re fine.”

 

“No pain,” Scott confirmed, nodding, still uncertain. “I still can’t believe it. Yesterday, I thought I was going to bleed out or die from the pain.”

 

“It couldn’t hurt that much. You could talk and move around,” Stiles reminded the other boy, not really interested in the melodramatics, even though he had been just as freaked out last night. They were facing a new day with more fucked up problems and if the sounds coming from the kitchen were anything to go by, it was about to get even worse than it already was. “But yeah, it’s freaky as hell.”

 

“Big help, you’re being there,” came the grouchy answer.

 

“I’ll look things up, okay?” Stiles promised, trying to placate his friend. “But you can’t talk about this to anyone. Do you understand?”

 

“I’m not stupid.” One of Scott’s feet was already through Stiles’ window, ready to sneak out like he’s been doing it for years. “But what about my inhaler and bat?”

 

“We’ll make a detour after school, promise. Just hide in my car, hopefully dad refrains himself from killing me,” he offered his best toothy grin that always fooled Scott even when Stiles is dying inside, and headed for his door before his dad could make up his mind and decide to be Stiles’ personal alarm clock. He just hoped that getting up in time would earn him some brownie points and lessen his dad’s wrath.

 

“Good luck, bro!” Scott’s words were still ringing in his ears as he slipped onto his chair at the dining table, but they bore no magical powers, because his dad was wearing his “cop face” that always reminded Stiles Spike’s “game face” and not just because both Spike and his dad had blond hair.

 

“If I start with how sorry I am, will you forget about the lengthy and probably very tedious lecture you’ve been cooking up along with the delicious smelling omelet?” he asked, unable to keep his mouth shut. Considering the glare shot in his direction it would have been a much better idea. Maybe he ought to sew his mouth shut like Thor did with Loki’s. Or maybe not, because Stiles was no god despite all his freaky powers and strength, and that sure would have hurt like a motherfucker. “I take that as a no. Should I sit down or kneel by your feet?”

 

“Why not? I’ll just bring out the collar and gag, so we can start on the disciplinary lessons,” his dad retorted with a smirk, causing Stiles’ eyes to widen then to screw closed at the mental images.

 

“Not cool, dad!” he exclaimed, scrunching up his nose. “How do you even-? You know what? Forget I said anything! I don’t want to know!”

 

“Hopefully that will teach you to think before you open your mouth.”

 

“You’re a horrible, horrible man for torturing your poor, innocent son with such vile images!”

 

“No one asked you to picture me in buttless chaps and a leather cap.” 

 

“Dad!” Stiles slapped his palms over his ears, but it was too late, because the image of his father as a VIP member of a hardcore BDSM club was already etched to his brain. “I’ll need to bleach my brain out or set it on fire or sell it for some moron who doesn’t care what kind of thoughts fill his head,” he whined, glaring accusingly at his father. 

 

“Careful, I might feel sorry for your non-existent braincells,” came the snarky answer, but Stiles refused to back down.

 

“You can’t be angry at me for wanting to protect the people I care for!” he said, a bit petulantly. His dad needed to see reason, and if he had to act even more obnoxious than usual, well being a teenager had it perks. “I have the power to help and I’m more than willing-”

 

“You won’t pull the mighty protector card with me, son. How many times do I have to tell you that you’re not one of the invincible superheroes from those comic books you love so much?” his dad seethed, humor and almost playful bantering forgotten. 

 

“Do you see me running around in spandex?” Stiles started to lose his patience, being fed up with the constant circles they were running. “I’m not Superman or Batman, I perfectly know that. For one, I’m neither a billionaire playboy, because hello? Being a scrawny, klutzy kid with a shit ton of freckles and moles is so not playboy material, but fortunately I’m not moronic enough to believe that wearing tacky glasses and nailing my hair to my skull with loads of gel would fool anyone if I were to go around and save civilians here and there. But, and this is a big BUT here with flashing capital letters and glitter, I’m not going to cover with my tail between my legs when I have the power and knowledge to help out. Especially not if the problem concerns me and my kind.” 

 

“What do you expect me to say?” His dad run his hand over his face in frustration, obviously realizing that he had no chance against Stiles and his ability to talk anyone’s ears off. “Sometimes I don’t know why I even try to talk some sense into you. I never doubted your skills and knowledge of the Wesen world, hell, I was the one who called Lawrence to train you.” He heaved a suffering sigh, his pale eyes boring into Stiles, and he had to fight down the shame that flared up in his chest. “I’m aware that you’re more than prepared to take care of yourself, probably better than I could ever take care of you, but to me you’re not the big bad Grimm that has the entire supernatural community shitting themselves in fear. You are my son and too precious to risk your life for something that not even exists in the eyes of the human population.”

 

“Not seeing them won’t make them go away,” he reminded his father. He glanced down at his still empty plate, trying to figure out what to say to appease his dad. “Making you worry is the last thing I want to do,” he started, finally gathering his thoughts and bravery to look back at the older man. “However, being a Grimm is my legacy, a legacy I inherited from mom, and I refuse to dishonor this gift.”

 

The pain that filled his father’s gaze told Stiles he went too far. It was cruel and maybe even unnecessary, but with the Blutbat killing people and somehow infecting humans playing dirty was unavoidable. Sure, he could always sneak around like a cheap thief, creeping around in dark alleys and worrying when he would get caught. He didn’t want that, but he was afraid his dad wouldn’t leave him another option. 

 

They stared at each other, the only reason Stiles didn’t drop his gaze was his sheer stubbornness. The seconds ticked away, their rhythm matching the blood thrumming in his ears nearly making him deaf and missing the first words that finally left his dad’s mouth.

 

“… now, you’re going to be late.”

 

“That’s it?” Stiles couldn’t hide the astonished disappointment that laced his words. “I list the very logical and rational reasons behind my actions, and all you can say is that I’m going to be late from  school ?!”

 

His dad raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him. “You might be a supernatural being, but as I said most of the people don’t even know your race exist. Which means that you have to haul your impudent ass off to high school just like every lowly human at your age does.”

 

“Can I take some of that heavenly bacon with me, or you decided to take them away now that you’re angrier than fifteen minutes ago?” So he was acting like a sulking brat, but that’s what his dad got for being so difficult. And he had the nerve to smirk at Stiles before giving him the go for the bacon! As if he was so sure that he had won the argument! “It’s not over, dad. It’s so not over!”

 

“Go or you’re going to get detention, and you know what that means.”

 

“Grounding. And wouldn’t you like that?” Stiles huffed around a mouthful of bacon and bread. 

 

He shouldered his bag, and with a last wave he left the house and hopped into his jeep where Scott was dozing off in the passenger seat. Stiles shook his head at him, and started the car, grinning when Scott shot up in his seat. He ignored his friend’s glare, busying himself with paying attention to the road in front of him. Thanks to some miracle they got to school in time, and even had the chance to witness as Lydia held her court before homeroom, throwing around acidic comments that melted the flesh off your bones and smiling her cruel, shark-like smile whenever one of her posse thought they had the right to express their opinion. Stiles stifled a snort, and turned back to Scott who was looking back at him with the familiar almost pitying look in his eyes that had been there for years now. Maybe Stiles should have corrected him when his friend assumed he had a crush on the girl.

 

“Let me guess, you’re still waiting for the perfect moment to talk to her,” Scott said, waggling his eyebrows. “Maybe you’ll get your chance this year. She’s ought to realize that his boyfriend is a royal jackass.”

 

“Your high hopes and optimism are touching, Scottie-boy, but you can put down your nosy grandma glasses, I’m not stupid enough to outright trample over the territory of everyone’s favorite asshat,” Stiles answered, rolling his eyes as he dropped his bag next to his desk. 

 

Coach Finnstock was glaring at them from his perch on the corner of the teacher’s desk, looking like he wanted nothing more than to strip them of their skin and then slice up their muscles and tendons slowly and painfully, and weren’t these images in his head just plain disturbing? He didn’t even get to see the other half of the body like Scott, yet here he was, staring at the whiteboard without actually seeing anything besides gory pictures that flitted before his mind’s eye. Coach was making roll call, blotching up Stiles name on purpose earning bored snickers and dumb comments from Jackson and his brain dead lackeys. Stiles automatically raised his hand then continued his staring until his carefully muted - it was still hard to control his senses even after years of training and wasn’t that lame? - senses suddenly snapped back into fully functioning mode and picking up the approaching footsteps of the principal’s secretary - thanks really sensitive nose - and a strange smelling, but most definitely human girl.

 

So they were getting a new student, and next to him Scott was fidgeting in his seat like an overexcited puppy. From the corner of his eye, Stiles could see as Scott’s nostrils flared and a faint blush painted his cheeks, which just… hell no. It wasn’t even the dread of possibly losing his friend to the womanly wiles of some unknown chick that forced Stiles’ mind to a screeching stop. No, it was the rush of information and fear of what Scott would do when he saw the new girl for the first time. He could only hope that Scott wouldn’t jump the girl who turned out to be a pretty brunette with an awkward smile and eyes that set of bells in the back of Stiles’ mind. He took a subtle sniff as Allison - the girl’s name - walked by him to sit behind Scott, but underneath the smell of her shower gel, perfume and early fall was only the scent of human. It confused Stiles, but next to him Scott was turning towards Allison like a puppet on strings, and managed to almost poke the girl’s left eye out with a pen and his boyish smile. 

 

Okay, maybe Stiles was worrying for nothing, well not for nothing, because the moment first period was over, Lydia swooped down and dug her claws into the fresh meat whisking Allison away with a mocking smirk and a flick of her strawberry hair in Stiles’ direction. What a bitch! Stiles had half the mind to sick the already pining Scott on them, because being forced to listen to endless rambles about Allison’s probably non-existent virtues and endure his friend’s pathetic sighs as he stared at the girl from across the cafeteria was a bit too much. 

 

“She’s just moved here from San Francisco,” Scott sighed wistfully, causing Stiles’ head to snap in his direction in disbelief.

 

“You gotta be shitting me, dude,” he groaned. “Using your new wolfy treats that you’ve totally forgotten to mention by the way, to eavesdrop on her conversation with Lydia is creepy and borderline stalkerish.”

 

“You would do the same if you could use my senses to spy on Lydia’s conversation,” was his friend’s not so friendly answer, and Stiles bit back an annoyed huff. It wasn’t like he could come out and confess that he could have listened in on Lydia’s every conversation if he wanted to. Actually, sometimes he did that, but only when the Hexenbiest seemed to be extra devious and plotting something possibly dangerous, which was more often than he was comfortable to think about, not that Scott needed to know that.

 

“I might have a little something-something for Lydia,” and he wasn’t lying, because there was something between them, just not the romantic kind of something, “but between the two of us, it’s not me who is pining after a girl he knows nothing about like a prepubescent girl.”

 

“That’s because you had your own pining period that lasted for three years after Derek pulled the asshole move and left without a word.” The silence that fell upon their table was oppressive and full of old wounds that never managed to heal. “Oh shit, Stiles… I-”

 

“Save it,” Stiles bit out, hating the fact that his heart still sped up at hearing his once best friend’s name. Except he was no longer ten years old and refused to be the same moping mess that he had been when he was ten. Life went on, and it wasn’t his fault that Derek was a distrusting jerk who thought that his best friend since forever was capable of betraying him and his family. Especially when said best friend was just a scrawny kid who had just lost his own mother. “It’s in the past, and I refuse to waste my time on the likes of Derek Hale.”

 

“Stiles-”

 

“Seriously Scott, drop it.”

 

“If you sure.” The look Scott sent him told Stiles that his friend didn’t believe him, but he didn’t care. He was fine and had much more important things to concentrate on than bastards like Derek Hale. Because unlike that fucking sourwolf, Stiles was loyal till the end, even when people didn’t deserve his loyalty. Or anything from him, for that matter. 

 

“More than sure,” he assured the other boy, before motioning towards the table where Lydia was holding her daily court, reveling in the undivided attention and popularity the unassuming humans were showering her with. “Why don’t you tune back into your sweetheart’s totally engaging conversation? I’m sure creeping on her will give you some advantage.”

 

“Shut up!” Scott was blushing, but his gaze flickered back to the softly laughing brunette. “I need all the help I can get, okay? I don’t want to mess this up, coz I really think, I have a chance with Allison.”

 

“Yeah, because she doesn’t know what a huge dork you are,” Stiles scoffed, grabbing his tray and bag, ready to leave. “Are you coming?”

 

“Nah, I want to finish my pudding.”

 

“Sure you are.” If his tone was a bit sarcastic, well who could blame him? 

 

He didn’t blame Scott for falling for the new girl’s charms. Allison was a really pretty girl, the first one who showed a semblance of kindness to Scott which instantly earned her some brownie points in Stiles’ book. Still it seemed a bit suspicious that the moment she showed up, Scott lost his remaining functioning braincells and turned into a desperate puddle of pining goo. If this was what Scott had meant by wanting to shed his old self and act like an adult, then Stiles was more than happy to remain the playful idiot he was. Unfortunately, not changing a thing about himself meant that he would have to watch as his friend failed spectacularly at becoming Mr. Popular and get his heart trampled over by a pretty face. Oh and there was the whole Blutbad business too. 

 

Taking a deep breath, he looked around in the classroom, not even surprised when he saw that Scott managed to slide into the seat next to Allison and was trying his best to act like he was more than a clueless dweeb with newfound superpowers. Stiles wondered if making a Spiderman analogy would be appropriate, but had abort the idea when he realized that his friend was neither smart nor had any sass in his scrawny, asthmatic bones. If anything , Scott was like Superman, a naive idiot who tried to be something he wasn’t. Or so Stiles thought until lacrosse practice came and Scott actually became Mr. Popular after showing off his new almost prodigal lacrosse skills and taking the next step to leave Stiles behind. 

 

“You still up for that trip to the woods?” Stiles asked while tying his shoelaces, already knowing the answer when Scott only cleared his throat awkwardly instead of instantly agreeing. 

 

“I kinda promised Allison that I’ll show her around in town?” At Stiles’ unimpressed expression he throw his hands in the air in defense. “I finally got a chance with a hot girl, what should I have done?”

 

“It’s cool, man.” Obviously the bros before hoes law was dead, but what could he have said without sounding like a needy bitch, who was trying to sabotage his friend’s chances at getting laid? “I’ll just take Smokey, he needs the exercise anyway.”

 

“Are you sure?” Scott asked, and sounded so guilty, Stiles didn’t have the heart to be selfish. 

 

“Yeah. Go and have some fun with your new lady friend.” He flash a suggestive grin at Scott, who blushed furiously and shoved him in retaliation. 

 

“Shut up!” he snapped, but a pleased smile was trying to curl his lips upwards. “She’s not my anything.”

 

“Yet.”

 

“Don’t jinx me!”

 

“Don’t act like an idiot and she’ll fall for your ugly face and puppy-like enthusiasm.”

 

“You’re such an asshole!”

 

“You love me, and you know it,” Stiles taunted and smacked a wet kiss on Scott’s face, jumping away from a swatting hand with a raucous laughter.

 

His dad’s car wasn’t parked on the driveway when he got home. Stiles let himself in to the house only to get assaulted by a huge ball of black fur that was hell bent on tackling him to the floor and slobbering him with as much drool as it could. 

 

“Smoky!” Stiles reprimanded, sinking his fingers into the soft fur at his dog’s neck. “Down, boy!” Smoky obediently lay down by his feet, head resting on his front paws as he pulled his best innocent act, knowing perfectly well that Stiles didn’t have a chance against his adorable puppy eyes and toothy grin. “Stop pretending you’re a chubby cherub and get up, we’re going for a walk.”

 

Smoky’s ears fluttered at the word walk and he was up in a second, barking happily at Stiles who could only roll his eyes fondly at his dog’s antics. He had found him shivering in a box behind one of the school dumpsters not a year ago, and he couldn’t leave the soppy little guy there. His dad was against keeping Smoky at first, but he was powerless against two sets of pleading puppy eyes, and he decided to admit defeat without too much fuss. The fact he kept snoozing off with Smoky curled up against his side was left unsaid, and it helped that Stiles was a very caring and dutiful dog owner. It was him who took Smoky to get his shots, he made sure his bowl was always full of water and built the doggy door himself, so Smoky could get out of the house whenever he wanted to. Stiles took the time and care to train and housebreak the puppy, and the hours spent with teaching and learning instructions created a bond between them that he had only felt once in his life before. 

 

Stiles scratched Smoky behind his left ear then opened the door and let him out, pleased when the dog stopped after a few steps, smartly sitting down on his hind legs. The drive to the edge of the woods didn’t take long, and by the way they got out of the jeep, Smoky was basically vibrating with the need to run and play tag with whatever small animal he could find. Stiles took his time though, patting his forearm to check if his dagger was secure in its holder and putting his Beretta in the back of his jeans, disregarding the grouching voice in the back of his mind that was nagging him about safety and possible accidents that would result in bullets in very unwanted places. 

 

“Let’s go!” he instructed, patting Smoky’s side and the dog was off, yipping happily as he bounded around Stiles’ legs, tail wagging excitedly. “You look like total dork,” he said, chuckling when Smoky’s slapped his knee with his tail. “Go catch some guileless bunny or something, but stay within earshot, kay?” Smoky barked in assent, although Stiles knew that no matter how intelligent his sweet pup was, he didn’t really understand what he was saying.

 

He tried to retrace Scott’s footsteps, sniffing the air in hope to catch the scent of his blood, but there was nothing besides the fresh earthy musk of forest. His sense of smell was better than an average human’s but it was his least enhanced sense and the hardest to control. Usually, the air around him was full of mingling scents, making it hard to pick a single one around unless someone he knew was close by or someone new came close to him. At least he had a vague idea where he had left Scott the night before, because wandering around in the woods while a rogue Blutbad was out for blood was not a good idea even for him. 

 

He could hear Smoky’s yipping behind his back as he chased a squirrel that was squealing in a high pitched voice which was just plain hilarious. Stiles continued his slow trek, inspecting the leaves and plants for any sign of blood, so the sudden appearance of another person took him by surprise. His eyes narrowed and his fingers twitched with need to reach for his gun, but the guy remained still, greenish gaze cold and so painfully familiar that it made Stiles’ heart skip a beat in realization.

 

“What are you doing here?”The guy’s was deep and menacing, trying to scare Stiles off, but he refused to be intimidated. “This is private property.”

 

“Does that mean that I need you put you down for killing a human and mauling another one?” he retorted acidly, lips curling into a derisive sneer.

 

The guy moved too quickly for the human eye, however Stiles was not human and was able to inspect the move before his back got slammed against the nearest tree, his vision filled with a snarling Blutbad and electric blue eyes. His grip tightened on his dagger he had managed to draw in time to be able to press it against the Wesen’s throat, but not even the security in his skills was enough to sooth his buzzing nerves and hammering heart. 

 

“I suggest you withdraw your pretty claws before my hand slips and slits your throat,” he suggested mildly, noting that he was at eye-level with the other. 

 

“You’ll be dead before you can even think of using that toothpick against me,” came the surly reply, making Stiles’ mouth twitch against his will. “You’re not welcome here.”

 

“Yeah, you’’ve already made that obvious, six years ago.” Stiles rolled his eyes to hide the pain that wanted to twist his face, then out of nowhere he yanked up his knee and kneed the bastard before him in the stomach, catching him off guard and sending him to the ground. “Now that we reestablished the old rules and you showed off your big shiny fangs, cough up Scott’s inhaler and bat, then I’ll be on my merry way. Unless you’re the rogue wolf, because then I really need to kill you.”

 

“You don’t have the guts to do it.” The mocking smirk on the ridiculously handsome face was almost enough for Stiles to want to prove the other wrong, but after a few deep breaths he found his slipping self-control, and even managed to pour his poisonous anger into his voice. 

 

“Just like I didn’t have the guts to burn your house down, when I was ten?” he asked cruelly, hating the fact he couldn’t find the slightest satisfaction in baiting the wolf whose face turned into an icy mask at the mention of the death of his family. “Why don’t you try me? If you think I’m such a spineless coward, why don’t you try to kill me? It’s your chance, Derek. Your chance to avenge your family I obliterated so cold heartedly.” His tone was bitter and full of age old wounds that never managed to heal no matter what he said or how hard he tried to prove that everything was alright.

 

Derek’s eyes were glowing blue and his teeth elongated into lethal fangs, but unlike Stiles had expected he remained still, sitting on the forest floor. Neither of them moved for what felt like forever, the tension thickening yet finding no outlet. Probably they would have continued their glaring contest if not for Smoky, who decided it was the perfect time to crash the party and jump between him and Derek, ready to protect Stiles with his life if necessary. The absurdity of his dog’s mindset made Stiles want to squeeze the living soul out of his furry body, because only Smoky was crazy enough to blatantly ignore the blaringly obvious predator vibes Derek was sending off. Smoky even went as far as barking at the Blutbad in warning, which caused Stiles to snort.

 

“It’s cool, pup, the big bad wolf won’t hurt me,” he soothed his dog, closing the distance between him and Smoky, and sinking his hand into the soft fur at the dog’s neck. His gaze never left Derek’s tense form and still glowing eyes. “I’m not going to apologize, because you don’t deserve it,” he said, noting the tightening of Derek’s jaw. “But you don’t have to worry about me, either, because I have better things to waste my time on. Now give me Scott’s shit, so I can go home, I have homework to write.”

 

Derek stood up, however instead of complying Stiles demand, he turned around and left without a fucking word, probably awfully smug that he got the last word without saying anything. Well he could go and fuck himself, because Stiles refused to give him the satisfaction to stomp or even just yell after him. He would just get a new bat for Scott when he saved up some money. Scott would understand, and if he didn’t he was welcome to take up his problems with Derek Hale.


End file.
